Rotting Apple
by AutumnMobile12
Summary: He was looking down at her little face, the corners of his mouth curled softly into his cheeks, as though for a moment in time, she meant the world to him. She liked that photograph. It was a fragment of honesty in a lifetime of doubt.
1. Something Innocent

...

Chapter 1: Something Innocent

 _"_ _She built a cage of ribs and skin,"_

 _"_ _And promptly locked a lion in."_

It was cold in the house when she opened her eyes, and rainwater was cascading in buckets down the sliding glass door to her balcony. She lifted her head with a soft groan and craned her neck to squint at the unforgiving red digits of her bedside clock. It was later in the morning than it appeared, the gloomy grey light of the storm clouds casting a deceptive shadow over Tokyo. Like an ashen lioness, growling and snarling with every stroke of lightning. Mai dropped her head onto her pillow with a weary sigh. It was too early to get up, yet she felt too awake to fall back to sleep. Thunder rumbled across the sky at a volume more deafening than before, striking an apprehensive chord in her heart, a remnant of an ancient childhood fear. Beside her, her fiancé seemed considerably less bothered by the noise, lying with his wiry arm over his eyes and a light snore stumbling its way from his throat.

 _Man could sleep through an earthquake if he wanted._ Mai thought as she rolled onto her stomach and stifled a laugh. She contemplated waking him, for company if nothing else. It was a lonely feeling listening to the thunder by herself, but she knew she should let him sleep. His job wasn't an office one like hers, and he needed his rest. Besides, he looked so much younger when he was asleep. Peaceful and less on edge. Nothing troubling him.

She smiled and closed her eyes, perfectly content.

Then her phone alerted her to an incoming message, a soft buzzing, then silence. Mai turned her face to her nightstand with another groan and reached forward, fumbling for the small device. It eluded her grasp once, sliding toward the lamp. Twice, it clattered away from her groping fingertips. Christ, if this was Naru asking why she was late and forgetting she had the day off… She stretched and snared the phone in her fingers, drawing it close for examination. A text. A message from a lifetime, an innocence, she lost long ago.

[Matsuda]: _Happy Birthday, kiddo!_

Long, _long_ ago.

Slowly, Mai sat up, holding the comforter around her bare torso and touching her toes to the floor.

With a forlorn sigh, she flipped her phone shut without a reply and her arm dropped into her lap. Through the rain-streaked glass of the door, she could see a couple dark lumps on the balcony she suspected were-but hoped were _not_ -her plants. A flash of lightning and rumble of thunder shook the house again. Her fiancé continued to snore, although he did turn in his sleep so his back was facing her. Mai smiled at him.

Her own parents had never married. Matter of fact, they weren't even engaged by the time she was born. They were young when they'd met. Just teenagers. Her mother was such a naïve and stupid girl, and her father…. Twenty-three years ago, Mai was born in this house, the same house her father had grown up in. It was an unbearably humid summer evening, her grandmother once told her. The air conditioner had broken, leaving her poor, laboring mother to suffer in the stifling heat. Stubbornly, she'd refused a hospital's care and allowed only a private doctor to tend to her. She had her reasons, and, strangely, they were good ones for once. Her father had stayed by her side and held her hand throughout the night, Grandma had told her. He was a good man.

So they all told her.

Despite herself, Mai smiled. She remembered her adoring mother, the woman who, after coming home from work, would immediately run to her, catch her up, and plant kisses all across her face. She would tell her she loved her and that she looked just like her father. "My Mai." She would whisper in her ear. "My sweet, little Mai."

Unfortunately, though she loved her dearly, her mother never really learned how to be a mother. Too immature, Grandmother would shake her head sadly. And far too careless. Too concerned with her work and her appearance to attend to the demands of her young daughter. Stories like that broke Mai's heart more than she ever cared to admit, especially since they contradicted what she remembered of her mother's love. In the end though, she supposed she knew it was her grandmother that was more of a parent. The memories she had of her mother did make her feel more like a pet than a child, after all.

Her father had passed away when she was two years old, and consequently, Mai only had the vaguest memories of him, little more than a faint inkling of his voice and a general idea of his face aided by the occasional photograph. Everything else had gone by the wayside, forever buried beneath sands of time. Frankly, though, he didn't have much to do with her before his death. Like her mother, he too was constantly working which often left her in the care of her doting grandmother.

That wasn't to say she didn't have _any_ recollection of him. They were just very disorienting memories. Ones she had trouble discerning from true memory and just images conjured in her mind. Some were clear as day. Some clouded over by fog. She could remember the day she learned to walk for instance. Quite vividly actually, despite numerous people telling her this was impossible. It was unusual for anyone to have memories from the age of two, never mind at twelve months. Some nonsense of how memory cells didn't reach that far back. This was ridiculous, she knew because she clearly remembered stumbling across the floor into her mother's waiting arms and her grandmother cooing about how she took after her father. Mother would catch her up and plant a myriad of kisses in her hair and face before tuning her around and sending her back to Grandma. She remembered that day. No one could tell her otherwise.

She remembered toddling up to her father when he came home that night, and there was a look of mildly impressed surprise on his face as he hung up his dark coat. He smiled at her, reaching down and gently pinching her cheek as her grandfather came in behind him. Daddy tried lifting her up, but she'd taken pride in her newfound powers and wouldn't let him, backing away and tugging at his larger hand. He said something to her then, but she was so intent on tugging him into the kitchen, she didn't listen. Her mother came running then, throwing her arms around Daddy's neck as she greeted him. Her grandfather scooped her up after that and hugged her. "Hello, Mai. Were you a good girl for your mother today?" He asked, smiling into her giggling face.

"Mm-hm!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, then, unbeknownst to all, grinned and waved at Ryuk behind him.

The shinigami grinned back and extended a spidery, black hand towards her little head, patting her soft, brown hair. Mai was never afraid of Ryuk. How could she be? He was with her right from the start, even if she didn't remember. Her undiscriminating newborn eyes had simply accepted him as part of the world she was born to.

She had no way of knowing she wasn't supposed to seem him. She had no way of knowing only those who touched the Death Note could see him. It was her mother who noticed first. While she was changing her one day, she noticed her daughter's wide and unblinking eyes were locked on the shinigami standing next to her. No doubt she'd mentioned this to her father, who probably glared at Ryuk. None of them were able to explain it, although all three of them would harbor a guess. Misa figured it was because of the Shinigami Eyes. Light theorized it was because she had two parents who used the Death Note. Ryuk just laughed that she was a freak, that every so often a human was born with the ability to see through deceptions like this, and the fact she'd been born to Kira was a hysterical coincidence.

Her father noticed her waving at Ryuk then, but before he could do anything, she was squirming in Grandpa's arms until he put her down. Light caught her before she could scamper up to the reaper. "Let's eat, okay? Sweety." He added awkwardly.

She nodded and Ryuk backed into a wall, disappearing from view.

There were other oddball here and there memories peppering her early years. She remembered the task force and her auntie Sayu. She remembered the sun on the floorboards and the ratty blanket she would drag behind her, pretending it was a snake. Grandma's plant room was her favorite place to play. She remember curling up to sleep between her mother and father on the rare nights they shared a bed. She remembered walking through the nearby park with her mother, who'd disguised herself with glasses, a short, black-haired wig, and plain clothes.

Of everything, though, she remembered her father the least.

After all, he really didn't have much to do with her before he died, killed in the investigation and apprehension of a murderer.

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: I wasn't expecting to post this one today, and the chapter was intended to be longer. But as I was looking at it today, I felt it was perfect the way it was. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this first installment of Rotting Apple.

Inspirational Music: 'Family Portrait' by Pink!/'Evil Angel' by Breaking Benjamin.

...

Ghost Hunt is owned by Fuyumi Ono and Shiho Inada.

Death Note is owned by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.

If anyone can tell me where the quote at the top comes from and who it was written by, I will gladly credit it here.


	2. We All Fall Down

...

Chapter 2: We All Fall Down

 _"_ _The strongest people are not those who show strength in front of us, but those who win battles we know nothing about."_

Mai's grumbling stomach rudely jolted her back into the present and a touch of nausea squirmed in her middle. _Ugh…_ She groaned and rose to her feet, grabbing one of her fiancé's T-shirts off the floor and slipping it over her head. It was a grey thing with a stretched out collar that always slid down one of her shoulders no matter how many times she adjusted it. She found a pair of sweatpants at the foot of the bed and tugged those on, then silently left the room, closing the door gently behind her. The old, narrow steps creaked and groaned under her weight as she made her descent.

This had been her family's home once upon a time. Shortly after her return to Japan and enrolling in high school, she'd used a fraction of the money she'd inherited from her mother to buy it. After which point…she'd actually forgotten about it until her engagement. Oh, sure it came up once or twice. She loaned Masako the key at one point, telling her it was a charm for luck or something like that. Mai suppressed a giggle as she crossed the hallway into the kitchen. In all honesty, that wasn't even true until that _exact_ moment, but the younger woman had been so grateful to her, she didn't have the heart to tell her it had just been a placebo.

And her fiancé's reaction had been priceless when she told him about the house! No context either, she might add. It had just hit her over the head one day and, in typical Mai fashion, she suddenly blurted, "I just remembered I have a house."

The man had stared at her for a long time, the usual disconcerted stare he saved for her especially unstable moments. "How does someone just forget they own a house?"

"It slipped my mind, okay? Here." She drew the key out of her bag and held it up between her thumb and forefinger. "See?"

Mai smiled at the memory and slipped two pieces of bread in the toaster, then set a kettle to boil for tea. Rain continued to patter against the windows, punctuated here and there by a grumble of thunder and a flash of lightning illuminated the kitchen. Her heart tightened. In her long experience of horror movies, ghost stories stories, and near-death events from her SPR investigations, this was the moment an entity of some kind would appear between flashes of light, teasing her first with intimidation, waiting for her to be overcome with fear and dread before striking her down once and for all. Mai's teeth clenched.

This house had a lot of ghosts.

And a lot of them were demons.

….

Her first memory that held any real clarity was of her father's funeral, though she could not say what happened right before the service. It was as though she'd opened her eyes for the first time and saw a sea of black clothes spread across a quiet and solemn room. She smelled incense, which made her nose run, and heard the chanting of the priest as he conducted the ritual to put her father's spirit to rest. Her grandmother was holding her on her lap, with Auntie Sayu sitting to her left, and Mommy to her right. Her aunt was inconsolable, her face buried in her hands, the rosary in her fingers dripping with her tears. Her mother just appeared dead, staring with hollow eyes at the white casket before them. Mai reached out and touched her hand, but the woman took no notice of her. _Mommy…_ She remembered thinking and continued to get her attention.

Not once did Misa look her way.

It was a cold, winter afternoon, this she knew because her grandmother had carried her outside during the middle of the service when her cries grew in both volume and intensity. Sachiko paced with her in her arms as she tried to calm her down, patting her back and shushing her as she walked. "It's okay, sweety. I know, I know."

They would go through that day together, Mai constantly clutching the woman's mofuku in her sticky hands, watching a parade of strangers walk past her as they offered their condolences and presented them with obituary gifts. The men of the task force stopped before them once, their faces solemn. Aizawa-ojisan and her grandmother exchanged a few words, and Matsuda-ojisan smiled at her and reached out to pat her head. Matsuda had always been her favorite when she was little. He was the one who could always make her laugh, even when her own mother couldn't.

But in that moment, she was terrified of him. She ducked away and hid behind Sachiko, clutching black fabric and crying in protest. Matsuda seemed both alarmed and hurt by her behavior, but he straightened again and turned his head so he wasn't facing her. In later years, her fear of the man faded and it was eventually written off as some kind of childhood phobia or other. Yet something always seemed different about the man after Daddy's funeral.

A sort of guilt seemed to come over him whenever he looked at her.

Her father was cremated and his ashes were buried on the fourteenth of February, and that same exact day, a year from then, her mother committed suicide.

In the years following, Mai would never forgive Misa Amane, and would, in later years, deny any relation to the woman, claiming instead Sachiko was her real mom. It was true in it's own way. Grandma had taken better care of her than her real mother ever did. Mai hated Misa for neglecting and abandoning her, for thinking her life wasn't worth living, for that stupid, selfish act. Even when she was a child, she felt nothing but angry grief when Misa killed herself, far more than any toddler should understand.

She didn't know all the details, of course, but she remembered the mess her mother had made of the apartment they'd lived in. All the trash bags that were never taken out, the sink that was constantly filled with dirty dishes and grimy water, the countless wine bottles strewn about, all because the woman was too hopeless to get her life together.

And the _smell._

To this day, Mai could scarcely walk past a dumpster without feeling a compulsive urge to vomit all over the sidewalk. Once, while walking back from a lunch break with Takigawa and John, she did just that, heaving barely digested sukiyaki across concrete. She never liked to talk about it, and they never asked, only held her hair out of her face as she went about her business. "Okay, so maybe that wasn't such a good idea?" Takigawa laughed uneasily.

John passed her a handkerchief and she wiped her mouth.

Only her room was safe from her mother's grief and neglect, and even then, she never truly felt at home. Not with Misa's constant sobbing drifting through the walls. Various members of the task force would visit, quite frequently actually, and they would clean up the place. Mostly out of pity for her than for her pathetic mother. Aizawa would often bring his wife, Eriko, who would scold Misa mercilessly, yelling about how she had a daughter depending on her and she ought to pull herself together like a proper mother.

In the last year of her mother's life, Grandma took them both in to avoid what was left of their family being broken up by social services. Bringing them to her and Sayu's home in the country, they tried to start over. Rebuilding their lives from a tragedy.

A fresh start. Now and then, she found herself wondering how it would've turned out had her mother held on.

….

The toaster popped and Mai jumped.

She grimaced and removed the two slices of bread, then dropped a tea bag into the kettle to steep. Very few people knew about her mother. Very few people knew the famous Misa-Misa had a daughter. Her parents had been very particular about keeping that a secret, hence her mother choosing to give birth at home rather than a hospital. Hence her father never mentioning a daughter to any co-worker outside the task force.

She was their secret.

Just as Misa's suicide was hers. No one at SPR ever suspected that darkness in her past, and for that Mai was infinitely grateful. Naru and Lin would raise an eyebrow at her ritualistic behavior of leaving flowers on her parents' graves at least once a month. The parents she refused to talk about, deflecting any and all questions about them, or keeping her answers vague whenever she did talk about them.

 _Oh, my father was a detective._

 _Mother was…a stay at home mom._

 _Dad died during an investigation. Heart attack._

 _Mom…an illness._

When their needling became too annoying, she would throw out, _I don't know. I don't remember._ They would usually leave her alone after that.

Mai scowled. She always told people she couldn't stand grudges. But that was all because she hated her own. No one should ever feel as miserable as she did some days, hating her mother with all her heart. Given what she knew now thanks to Naru and SPR…she supposed she could ask her why she did it. Why she left her all alone.

But that was silly, she told herself.

Because….because….

Mai took a vehement bite of toast. Because _why_? Misa's betrayal had scarred her for life. Why should the bitch be given a chance to explain herself? Taking her toast, a cup, and the kettle to the table, she dropped into a seat at the table and continued eating. Explain what? She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. There was nothing that woman could say to make things right.

Nothing at all.

And what hurt the most was her picture was still there. Still sitting on the family altar with a broken frame and cracked glass. Mai kept it turned to the wall, but it was still there. Still staring at her with warm, kind eyes.

Still her mother.

And no amount of pain or fury could ever change that.

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: Second installment. Not much to say here except thank you if you stuck around for chapter two. And maybe stating the idea where Mai was bullshitting about the house key being a luck charm was completely random. It probably became her luck charm after that incident, since it did help Masako and all. But more on that later.

Inspirational music: Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez.

...

Ghost Hunt is owned by Fuyumi Ono and Shiho Inada.

Death Note is owned by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.

If anyone can tell me where the quote at the top comes from and who it was written by, I will gladly credit it here.


	3. Waking Nightmare

...

Chapter 3: Waking Nightmare

 _"_ _They have promised dreams do come true, but forget to mention that nightmares are dreams, too."_

Mai retreated into the dark, empty corner of her mind as she drank her tea. It was her favorite place to calm down when she got herself worked up over an injustice or something to that effect. She just loved to sink into the blackness and think about nothing, her eyes glazing over, staring at nothing and oblivious to her surroundings. Most people knew not to bother her while she was in that frame of mind. Her friends at school did, at any rate. So did Ryuk. And her fiancé for the most part. Naru, not so much, and she had a feeling this habit of hers had led to a number of occasions that resulted in him calling her stupid. Not that she really knew for sure; she hadn't been paying much attention.

It was a good place to run away to, and it had served her well in the past.

By the time Misa Amane leapt to her death from a high rise in Tokyo, she'd become so absent from her life Mai didn't even bat an eye upon hearing the news. In fact, as she watched her grandmother take the call, somewhere in her heart…she knew the woman had gone and done what they'd been both dreading.

She was three years old.

It had been dinner time.

Or at least it should have been, but Misa had been nowhere to be found for several days. Sachiko called the local police first, fearing she'd gone and hung herself somewhere in the forest. She also forbade Mai from running outside to play, although she would never say why. Looking back on it, Mai shuddered at the thought of finding her mother's corpse dangling from a rope tied to a tree limb. She was glad not to have seen that, even if it never happened.

Perhaps she should have mourned her mother's death, Mai thought. Perhaps she still should. As negligent and sickening a mother she'd been, the woman had still given her life in a world on a fast track to what Light Yagami called perfect. Maybe she was obligated to honor that and lay flowers on Misa's grave, make offerings to a funeral shelf in her living room, and burn incense on holidays. Maybe that would have made her a good daughter.

Mai opened her eyes.

Maybe doing that would have allowed her to cope and shed some of the bitterness she'd carried throughout her life.

Somewhere through the ceiling, she heard a muffled sneeze from her fiancé. She looked up and waited, wondering if he'd woken up. But there were no footsteps overhead nor could she hear the sound of someone walking down the stairs, so she sat back in her chair, unsure whether she was disappointed or not. While she might've cherished a warm hug from him right now, she knew in her heart she wasn't in the mood for a colloquial exchange, even with how much she loved the man. When they'd first met, she—Mai smothered the thought with a smile, blowing gently at her cup of tea before taking a hesitant sip. No wait, she'd been thinking about her mother.

Misa's funeral had been very much the same as her fathers. Tears, black clothes, incense that made her nose run. The casket remained closed, though. That was for the best. No one wanted to see what her mother had done to herself. She knew what the mourners were thinking, too. That it was for the best her mother was gone. She overheard Matsuda-ojisan murmur to his girlfriend, now wife, "At least with Misa-Misa's shadow gone, Mai can live a better life now."

 _Optimistic fool._ Mai thought. But it wasn't an entirely foolish prediction. He loved her like a niece; of course, he wanted the best for her.

As terrible as it sounded, her life did become easier after her mother died. Without Misa's hopeless sobs and misery hanging over the house like a dark fog, Mai remembered something like a weight lifting off her mind and heart. She developed a more outgoing personality, Mogi-ojiisan had told her once. Before her mother's suicide, she was always hiding in her room, playing by herself until Sachiko made time for her. Mai smiled. After Misa passed away, she went to school, she made friends, she played and laughed as any child her age should. She used to run through the mountains with her best friends, a pair of boys called Tohru and Masao, fishing in the stream and catching bugs and running through the fields in their little farming community. She remembered long days full of adventure and bare feet tracking mud into their respective houses, repetitively staining tatami mats. It had been so long ago, though, she wondered if those two even remembered her anymore. Somehow she doubted it. Her memory was exceptionally long and detailed, and even she had trouble calling their faces to mind. And yet, she wondered what would happen if she one day appeared out of the blue and asked, "Remember me?"

Mai closed her eyes. She missed those days. She missed her grandmother and her friends. She missed just being a kid. No worries. She was just a little girl back then. A happy, healthy, perfectly normal little girl who'd happened to to be two parents short. She loved stories about her father. About what a smart and successful man he was. Grandmother would proudly tell her she'd inherited her father's sharp mind, something that always made her happy to hear. School was a joy to her as well. She remembered hassled mornings of getting ready, then running with her friends down the road to the one-room elementary school located in their village. The neighbors used to call out to them and wish them luck and—

A thunderclap shook the house and Mai nearly leapt to her feet, the memories melting away.

 _Ah, right. It was raining that day, too._

It was at her grandmother's funeral something of her father awoke in her heart.

….

By that point, funerals were somewhat of a staple in her life. Her grandfather, father, mother, and now grandmother, all in such a short span. She was twelve when Sachiko passed away. A traffic accident. Mai could never stomach to look into the details. The only thing she knew was a member of the village police force, a kind, older gentleman, pulled her out of class and explained very gently that her beloved grandmother had gone to be with the others who'd passed on.

She hadn't known what to say. It had been almost a decade since there had been a death in the family. The neighbors were so kind. In a village as small as theirs, everyone looked out for each other, a sense of love and community Mai missed even to this day. The Shimizu family who lived just a short ways away arranged everything, and even helped cover some of the funeral expenses. Mai was only a girl, they said, and Aunt Sayu…

Aunt Sayu never truly recovered from…her ordeal, whatever it had been. At the time, Mai hadn't exactly known what was wrong with her aunt. Grandma never liked to talk about it, just as she never spoke of her husband's death. All Mai had known was she'd been once again sitting in her house, surrounded by black and incense and soft words. The village monk had just finished offering his condolences, as well as extending an invitation to the temple if she ever needed someone to talk to, when she'd wandered toward the kitchen.

And then… "Why was it her?" Aunt Sayu asked bitterly. "Why couldn't it have been Mai?"

Already shattered with grief from her grandmother's death, her heart plummeted into a pit of acid, searing her open wounds. Sayu's therapist gently scolded her for saying such an awful thing, but Mai didn't hear. She fled, running through house that had just that morning contained nothing but happy memories, and all but crashed through the back door. She leapt over the back gate and ran off into the forest where she'd loved to play, dashing as fast as she could with no destination in mind. Only to get away from that of sea of black clothes, mournful faces, and stifling pity. There was no comfort in their voices and she saw no solace in their tearful eyes. Not a damn shred of it would bring her family back.

They were gone, gone, gone, gone, _gone!_

And the last one….the one who should've loved her and looked after her, as Mai would've gladly done the same, wished she was gone, too.

Nothing could console her after that revelation. She collapsed at the bottom of a creek bed nearly half a mile away and cried until her heart and soul only ached from the pain. Why did her aunt wish she was dead? Why did Grandmother have to die? Why did her parents? And Grandfather? Why did they have to be gone? She had no one now.

Eventually, as the sky began to grow dark, she picked herself up and began walking. She thought about going to one of her old haunts—the cave further up the mountain, the little waterfall in the stream, the old fox den where she sometimes stored toys or candy—then figured her friends would be checking those first in their attempts to find her. And she wasn't ready to be found yet, so she kept to the creek, wading through knee-deep water until her feet were past frozen. _So cold._ She sniffled.

She heard the wingbeats of the creature first. She hadn't seen Ryuk since she was a child and had long ago written him off as just her overactive childish imagination. But there he was, an imposing and frightening figure, standing over her in the rain. She did not run. Her feet remained rooted to the spot as though they'd taken root within the water. She did not scream or cry or say a word, only stared at the being before her in a mix of horrified recognition and unreserved awe. To many who'd seen him, Ryuk was a frightening specter, rendering all who saw him speechless with terror.

To her, he was magnificent.

The shinigami cocked his head to the side, silent and curious, his perpetual grin stretching even wider. "So you _can_ see me, after all."

She nodded, her grandmother's funeral and aunt's cold words forgotten. "I remember you."

"Do you?"

"Of course. You're Ryuk, aren't you." She brushed the rain out of her eyes, fixing him with an astonished stare. "A god of death."

That made him laugh and he extended his hand in an old, familiar gesture and patted her soaking wet hair. She didn't fear him any more then than she had as a toddler, and his presence opened her eyes and verified so many incidents she'd had as a child that she'd convinced herself had never happened. Standing in her crib and waving her hands at the reaper. Playing with a multitude of blocks while the reaper watched. Her own father holding her in his lap as he directly talked to the reaper. _He'd_ been able to see him, too, she realized. Why was that? Why was her family—no, just herself and her parents—able to see the death god?

Ryuk took her by the hand, his spidery fingers engulfing her tiny fist and he back to pull her out of the creek. She followed without resistance, and she was safe on the shore again, the reaper wordlessly spread his wings and took flight, disappearing above the tree line without so much as a backward glance. It was hours before she moved from that spot, her eyes fixed on the darkening sky, but she eventually returned home. What else could she have done? She was twelve. Aizawa was waiting for her on the porch. When he saw her, he shouted her name and sprinted across the yard to meet her, scooping her up in his arms and yelling about how worried they all were. She apologized for scaring them, and he forgave her without a word, holding her as close as he could. "Don't ever do that again. Don't you _ever_ do that again, Mai, you hear me?"

"I'm sorry."

"God, I didn't send anyone after you right away because I thought you'd want space, but had I known you'd disappear like that…" He tightened his arms around her in a comforting hug. "You had us all worried sick, Mai."

A few phone calls later, and the others returned and gave their similar scoldings, albeit Mogi's was a few gruff words and Matsuda's wasn't stern at all. Mai just giggled at his, despite her sadness. He was always her favorite. Her aunt was nowhere to be found. She'd gone to bed hours ago, exhausted from grieving. Mogi was dispatched to let her know Mai had returned, but Sayu never came out of her room. Far too angry and hurt and altogether devastated by her rejection, Mai refused to see her as well and went to bed without saying goodnight. They would talk in the morning, she decided. They would sit down and talk about what was going to happen next and everything would be okay. She went to bed believing that, pulling her favorite stuffed animal, Momo the Seal, close to her and curling up under the blanket.

She never saw her again. Aunt Sayu committed suicide sometime in the early hours of the following morning.

And that was the end of her of her childhood.

 _"_ _I don't have a single, living relative."_ Is what she would tell people, and it was true. They were all gone and swept away by the wingbeats of reapers.

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: It helps that with Ghost Hunt, we really know nothing about Mai's past. Just that both her parents are dead, no clear details on how or when, and there are no others. As for her claim that neither of her parents had siblings, which we all know is entirely untrue, that will be explained relatively soon. Mai's childhood friends are real characters from a real series, props to you if you know who they are. If not, it's not important. It's more of a joke than anything. If you're new to Rotting Apple, be sure to favorite, follow, and review, the support is greatly appreciated. Love you all, you're awesome! See you at the next update!

Inspirational Music: Nothing in particular for this one.

...

Ghost Hunt is owned by Fuyumi Ono and Shiho Inada.

Death Note is owned by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.

If anyone can tell me where the quote at the top comes from and who it was written by, I will gladly credit it here.


	4. Parting Ways

Chapter 4: Parting Ways

 _When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching,_

 _they are your family. ~Jim Butcher_

…

Mai clutched the ceramic bowl of the toilet and heaved the meager contents of her stomach into the water, her breath coming in short labored gasps. She squeezed her eyes shut and curled her knees into her stomach. God, it tasted so awful, all sour, tea-colored acid mixed with chunks of purée toast. Mai groaned and vomited again, coughing violently. The sound echoed off the cream-colored walls of the bathroom, resonating so loud, she feared waking up her lover and him running downstairs to find her in this state. No doubt he would fuss over her like a mother with a worrisome child, a massive pet peeve of hers. She vomited one last time and took a moment to rest before flushing the mess away and collapsing into a heap on the floor. Her breath came in heavy gasps and her eyes were damp from the effort. _One. Two. Three…_ A wave of nausea gripped her belly again, but she forced it down. There was nothing left to expel, so she calmly sat up and leaned against the wall, pulling her knees into her chest. That had been a surprise. It wasn't often she was upset enough to feel sick when thinking about her family. Letting out the most calming sigh she could muster, Mai dragged a hand across her perspiring forehead.

Now…where was she?

Oh, yes.

The end of her childhood.

…

Her aunt's funeral was a nightmare. With her last living relative gone—as her mother's family had passed away years before her birth—Mai didn't have the slightest idea what would happen to her. The task force was shocked when they found Sayu's body in the morning, and before Mai knew it, yet another formal send-off came and went. Black clothes, incense, pity, the same old story yet again. Except this time, there were no family members to accept mortuary gifts with her. She knelt alone by Sayu's casket, her eyes dry and quite empty, and spent that day wondering where she would go. She knew she was too young to care for herself. If none of her neighbors or the task force took her in, she'd be sent to the foster system. Although, she dearly hoped it wouldn't come to that. Surely someone would take her in.

So engrossed in her thoughts, she did not even notice the man until he stood directly before her, a truly impressive feat given he was all in white and blatantly conspicuous against the black clothes of the other mourners. Like chalk on a blackboard. He didn't smile at her or offer a word of condolence or even a gift. He just watched her with an unnerving pair of grey eyes and didn't say a word. Mai didn't like it and stared defiantly back. She was sick of funerals and mourning and endless pity. If this man offered her yet another empty condolence, she would hate him, too. As if condolences would change a thing. She scowled at him.

And he offered her a doll.

Awkwardly enough, he offered her this _godforsaken_ doll. It was an ugly thing, a creepy antique that should've remained buried in the attic from whence it came. She made no move to take it, far too bewildered by the gesture and unnerved by its empty, blue eyes staring at her. The man in white, it seemed, didn't appreciate her silent treatment and cut straight to the point. Or rather, he was always like that, blunt and never wasting time. "Greetings, Yagami Mai." He told her and she flinched at the sound of his voice. "I was a colleague of your father's many years ago."

By this point in her life, any thought of her father had all but faded from her mind and she could no longer recall his face. Just a blurry memory of the suit and tie he always seemed to wear with the image of his photographed face cut out and slapped over it, like some grotesque piece of art. As she went about her childhood days, the very notion she'd even had a father had become virtually nonexistent. She never spoke of it. Her friends never asked. Her grandmother occasionally brought him up, but…well, he was dead, and sometimes it was better not to think about him. At least for her own peace of mind.

"I don't have a father."

"Is that so?"

"Near." Aizawa-ojiisan appeared at her side then, placing a hand on her shoulder but never taking his eyes off the strange man in white. "I see you received my message."

 _What message?_ She remembered looking up at the man in confusion, but he just tightened his grip.

…

Mai lowered her hand, her breathing calm again.

Her father had died in the investigation and apprehension of the mass murderer Kira. He died a hero, bringing justice to a psychopath.

That was the lie she'd been fed since she was a girl. It wasn't until she met Near and Ryuk that she began to suspect something was off about Aizawa's story. He spoke of it only once, and then never mentioned it again. Kira was dead. It was over. That was all that mattered. The only thing that ever mattered.

Lies were such delicate, little things. _Well, I had a teacher that was really nice and she let me come and stay over at her house for awhile._ That, for example. Mai grinned. It was a simple lie designed specifically to throw off unwanted questions, and yet it was not entirely untrue. Less than a day after her aunt's funeral…

…

"Mai, do you remember that man at Sayu's wake?" Aizawa-ojiisan asked her. "The one who gave you the doll?"

She knew exactly who he meant without him mentioning that monstrosity. He was the only one at the funeral unknown to her. As an obvious foreigner, he clearly wasn't family. In the village she grown up in, everyone knew everyone, and she hadn't heard about any newcomers moving in. He was too young to be an acquaintance of Sachiko, and Sayu had shut herself away from the world for years. He was a ghost. Something she couldn't explain.

Mai simply nodded.

Aizawa cleared his throat. "That man is L."

She raised her head in surprise. The most she knew of L came from what the task force had told her. He was a brilliant detective, tackling the world's 'unsolvable' cases, and he and her father had worked together to apprehend the mass murderer, Kira. In one of her trippy half-memories, she recalled seeing that letter on a computer screen. Or was it the letter N? She didn't know for sure. In fact, the basics of what she remembered there was crawling into her father's lap and playing with his tie or headset.

Then Aizawa explained that L, Near, would be taking her under his wing. And try as she may, Mai could never remember her exact thoughts at that announcement. Her mind drew a complete blank whenever she tried to recount it. There was nothing. No confusion or fear. She should've felt that, but Mai didn't remember feeling that way at all. Or feeling anything for that matter. Maybe she was just numb from her grandmother and aunt's consecutive funerals and the general dirge of tragedy that seemed to narrate her young life.

What she did remember was a blur of packing up everything she'd ever owned, all her books and clothes and other choice belongings she couldn't bear to leave behind. The task force and her home village threw a going away party for her. That was a night to remember. Good food, hundreds of goodbyes, a beautiful evening. She bid her neighbors farewell one by one, and the local priest conducted a ceremony to bless her for luck. After dark, her best friends and the other village children played one more round of each of her favorite games. She fell asleep in her backyard sprawled out in the grass with them.

In the morning, she said goodbye to that village for the last time, and everyone in it. Even as she drove away in Mogi-ojiisan's car, there was a sizable crowd waving goodbye from her childhood home. They didn't dissipate. She watched them until they were an undistinguished blur in the rearview mirror before the car turned onto the highway.

She was driven straight to the nearest international airport where Near and three others were waiting. Two men and one woman, all of them foreign and standing like statues. Mai immediately didn't like the look of any of them. It was as though she were being exiled from her birthplace and these people were here to escort her to a stranger's land. She said nothing as she approached them, warily keeping her eyes trained on all of them, especially the man in white. The infamous and elusive L.

As the car came to a halt, she stepped into the sun, carrying a backpack on her shoulders, and approached her new caretakers. The task force followed behind her, and for that she was grateful. L stared at her with those unnerving grey eyes of his, like a hawk eyeing a rabbit in the fields. Mai came to a stop before him and tried to speak, tried to greet him politely, but any sound refused to leave her throat.

"Near." Aizawa suddenly began, his hand on Mai's shoulder. "I just want you to remember, no matter what happened in the past, no matter who she is, Mai is still our girl and she's very dear to all of us. Please, take care of her."

"I understand." L nodded immediately. "You have my word, Aizawa."

At that, the lone woman in his entourage stepped forward. "Hello, Yagami Mai." The lady said in perfect Japanese, kneeling to her level and offering her hand. "My name is Halle. It's nice to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you as well, Miss Halle." Mai said back in perfect English.

Halle smiled at her, clearly impressed, then stepped aside as the two men, Commander Rester and Stephen Loud, introduced themselves. "We're very pleased to have you, Yagami. You'll like your new home. I guarantee it." Loud assured her.

As she reached out to shake L's hand as well, his grey eyes suddenly darted toward her opposite hand hanging at her waist. "What a nice watch."

"Thank you, it was my father's."

"I see." His hand clasped hers, giving a firm shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you properly. Mai, daughter of Light Yagami."

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: Okay, it's ridiculous how long this chapter was sitting around, a paragraph or two away from being finished. Not the best chapter this story will see, but the next one will be better. Man, I can't believe I let this one go for a year without updating.

Ghost Hunt is owned by Fuyumi Ono and Shiho Inada.

Death Note is owned by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.


	5. Mathematics, Strategy, Crime

...

Chapter 5: Mathematics, Strategy, Crime, and Psychology

 _"It seemed barbaric, to contain a beast_

 _For surely on her heart, it'd feast."_

She was never a child of Wammy's House.

But with her father's intellect and Near's teachings, she might as well have been.

It was brutal. To make up for years of lost time, Near began her training immediately, starting with a maddeningly frustrating puzzle box during the flight to Britain. Mai remembered the long hours of tinkering with that damn thing. Sliding panels left and right, up and down, listening for clicks, tapping hollow sounding spots, and shaking the box to see if there was actually anything in it. Paper, it sounded like. Like a Rubik's cube crossbred with a sliding puzzle and having a bastard child with an interlocking wooden puzzle, the contraption irritated her beyond patience and yet challenged her so much she couldn't put it down. She spent the entire flight attempting to open it, and by morning, she had succeeded, undoing the last latch to find a single slip of paper inside:

 _Too slow._

With a scowl, she tossed the puzzle into the seat next to her and held out her hand. "Another one, then." It was not a request.

She couldn't count how many books she read, how many lessons had been crammed into her brain, how many long hours she spent studying at her desk, and how many cups of tea she drank to stave off the splitting headaches. So much tea. She studied everything from mathematics to history to symbology to religion, every last thing Near could think of. Every subject in the world, she could at least give a vague summary on the matter. Chemistry, psychology, crime, theater and acting, history, literature, anatomy, physics, geography, anthropology. All those days she spent shut up in her room working to catch up with her peers, and far too distracted to realize what Near's true goal was.

He wasn't all that bad, Near. Of course, one might say the same about a PMSing rattlesnake but no matter. They could both say with a degree of certainty he was an acceptably efficient caregiver. He knew and understood the basic principles of raising children, more so than her own mother ever had. Learning that had been a requirement when he made the decision to take care of her himself. In the years Mai spent with him, Near made sure she was fed and clothed, receive the proper education for a girl her age and more, the appropriate medical care when she was sick, enforced firm but fair household rules, and so on. She never wanted for anything, even though she never asked for much.

But he was analytical. Inexpressive. She never held it against him. She just told herself she was lucky _someone_ had taken her in, sparing her the potential instability of the foster system. In all actuality, she found more of a family with the remnants of the SPK. Rester taught her to play piano, something in which she found a remarkable gift. Stephen introduced her to a world of literature, which she grew to love. Lidner helped her discover her talent with languages and computers. And guns. So…the library, the sun room where they kept the grand piano, and the shooting range quickly became special haunts. The SPK were kind to her, and Near…

Near was a bastard.

But without him, she might've…

She'd always been a smart girl. She was at the top of her class, in both middle and grade school, which made her family proud. Sachiko was always showing her off, telling everyone she was just as brilliant as her late father, claims which Mai dismissed as the words of a doting grandmother. In her young mind, she was just average. Just a kid.

But under Near's tutelage, by the time she was fourteen years old, she'd cracked investigation after investigation wide open, leaving them like smashed eggshells before hurtling onto the next one. Through the alias Near had assigned to her, she'd built a network of allies and assets around the world. Scientists, historians, mercenaries, private investigators, even politicians and criminals, anyone she could find a use for. They knew her as M, a name she later learned once belonged to another one of Kira's many victims, and she grew wily and proud under Near's teachings.

The mass murderer her father had died to apprehend was the furthest thing from her mind in those days.

Until…

…

The prospective title of the book was called _Hunting Kira_.

It was to be a closely censored memoir of the investigation against the mass murderer conducted by the Japanese task force, written by Matsui Touta. Mai found her uncle's manuscript laying on the table in the kitchen when she came down for breakfast. It was a simple three-ring binder labeled _Draft #1_ , and there was an open and empty cardboard box nearby addressed to Bentley Hart, one of Near's many identities.

Near hadn't stashed it away somewhere out of her reach, so she assumed him leaving it on the kitchen table was his strong recommendation. She paged through it for a time, examining photographs of suspects and reading paragraphs that caught her eye. It wasn't the best read, and a lot of the evidence mentioned was circumstantial at best and— _wait…my mother was a suspect?_ Mai frowned at the photograph of the blond goth-loli smiling at the camera. Yes, that was undoubtedly Misa Amane, but how? She didn't have great memories of the woman, but her mother a murderer? That was…

"Mai."

"Yes, sir?" She looked up from her breakfast and the binder. Commander Rester was standing in the kitchen doorway, a hand on the frame as he looked at her. "What is it?"

"I see you found the manuscript." The man offered a half-smile. "What do you think?"

Mai snorted. "Matsuda-ojiisan's style of writing is too upbeat and whimsical for this kind of reading material. It's like he's trying to make a novel out of the investigation, so it loses its serious edge and strays into thriller territory. Although, on the other hand, the fanciful technique does keep the book from becoming a dry, boring tome, which admittedly does appeal to fiction readers."

"Funny, Near said about the same thing when he read it this morning."

"I didn't know Matsuda was writing about the case."

"Near—L—is giving him special permission to write the story of the task force and its exploits, provided sensitive details of the case are censored."

The girl nodded, deep in thought and flipped idly through the pages. There were no photographs of the task force, aside from those who'd already passed on. Even now, about twelve years after the fact, none among the task force wanted their identities revealed to the public. Though rare, Kira worshiping cults were still in effect.

The last page was a small dedication:

 _In honor of the victims of Kira and those who gave their lives to stop him._

Followed by a series of more photographs. Investigators who hadn't survived she quickly gathered as both her father and grandfather were among the photos. Two men she could barely remember.

 _July 12th, 1955 - November 11th, 2009._

 _February 28th, 1986 - January 28th, 2010._

These men had given their lives, though not in vain. Kira's reign of terror was finally over, so their souls could finally rest in peace. Only… "Will Near let him reveal Kira's identity?" Mai raised her head. "It makes sense why he wouldn't, but I'm sure a lot of Kira's victims had families, too. Wouldn't they deserve some closure of at least knowing his name?"

Rester became very quiet. Too quiet even for him. Something she could not identify flashed behind his eyes and a muscle twitched in his jaw. Mai noticed these. Near had taught her to observe. Nothing slipped past her. Rester clenched his fist for a second, swallowed, then asked in a very forced calm, "What do you know of Kira, Yagami?"

She paused, wondering if this was a test of sorts. An entire book about him was lying on the table in front of her, after all. "He was the greatest mass murderer of all time, sir. In the year 2003, believed to have begun around the end of November, an epidemic of unexplained heart attacks began to afflict criminals worldwide. On December 4th of the same year, the first L officially initiated his investigation against the threat, accurately deducing the culprit was Japanese, or at least stationed in Japan. An NPA task force was organized to hunt him down, and a six year investigation followed, during which time L worked alongside the police to catch Kira. Later, in 2009, the US launched the SPK, or Special Provision for Kira, headed by the current L. The deaths came to an end around January of 2010, although there was a brief resurgence in 2013, in which the elderly of Japan were…euthanized in an assisted suicide by Kira."

"That's it?" Rester raised an eyebrow. "What of the killer himself?"

Mai frowned at him. "W-Well, Kira's death, identity, and method of killing were never made public, so no one but L, the SPK, and the Japanese task force know who he was, how he committed his crimes, and what ultimately happened to him." And goodness knows her uncles had adamantly refused to tell her. Even Matsuda-ojiisan, the most easily coerced one of the bunch, was miraculously tight-lipped regarding the matter.

Rester seemed satisfied with this answer, nodding silently to himself.

"My father was part of that task force." Mai spoke up as the thought occurred to her. "Did you meet him before he died?"

"In passing." The man said immediately, giving a short nod. "During the warehouse incident and some of the events leading up to it. We exchanged words."

…

Her father was Kira.

Contrary to popular belief, the revelation held no surprise for her. There wasn't even a personal investigation into the matter. The notion just hit her after she finished Matsuda's manuscript, a passing thought, and everything—every odd hint and second glance—seemed to fall into a weird kind of sense. It explained her uncles' reluctance to speak of Kira, especially to her. Yet another reason why the SPK never came forward with Kira's true identity. And more importantly, how her father died. And why Ryuk, noted companion of Kira, retained his interest in her.

It was the shinigami who confirmed her suspicions, not Near's case files. She didn't want to go digging for the truth. All she wanted was simple honesty.

"It's true, isn't it."

Ryuk's smile never changed. "You're a sharp one."

"It runs in the family." She sighed. She'd left the house and had been at the local park for an hour, sitting idly in one of the swings with an apple at her feet.

"Yeah, I suppose that's true." The shinigami reached for the apple and took a bite. "What brought this on all of a sudden?"

Mai glanced toward the rain clouds slowly making their way toward them. "Matsuda has been writing a book about Kira, and I began to think about all the things that just didn't add up with the case. Up until last week, I'd never really given it much thought, but now…the only answer to the riddle that makes sense requires me to be the daughter of a murderer." _Murderers, actually._ Although never officially convicted, her late mother was also likely the Second Kira. "That sound about right, Ryuk?"

"Yep."

She looked down at her shoes trailing in the gravel, unsure of what to do now. She was smart enough to understand if Near and the others were keeping secrets from her, they had reasons. Protection. Respect for her family. Fear of upsetting her sanity. Part of her knew an ordinary person would cry at such a revelation. To be the child of a serial killer? Who could live with knowledge like that? Had they been afraid it would haunt her? That she would take her own life as her mother and aunt had?

Mai swallowed. Right now, all she felt was hollow. Those vague smiles she remembered from her father…were those real? How had he felt about her? About Mother? She turned her head to the rainclouds beginning to gather in the distance. What had driven him to such lengths? How had he evaded the police for six years? Who was the Kira of 2013 if not Light Yagami? She had so many questions, and yet… "So why do you keep following me?" She asked. "You know I'm not Kira. And I would imagine a god of death has better things to do."

"Not really." He said around the last few bites of apple. "It's true, you're nowhere near as entertaining as your sire."

She glared at him.

"But you of all humans are able to see shinigami without ever touching a Death Note."

"A Death Note?"

His hand went to the holster at his side and he removed the black book he'd kept there from the day they'd met, and so Ryuk told her a story the world could never know.

Had he, an impossible creature, not been standing in front of her, she would've never believed such an outlandish story. It was ridiculous. A notebook that killed with a name and a face? But in the end, it was the only thing that explained the wide-scale crime spree that Kira—no, Light Yagami—embarked on. The mass killing that transcended countries, continents even. How he'd eluded capture. It was horrible. The most heinous of all killings.

And yet marvelously brilliant.

"I see." Mai said when he finished his tale, rain falling all around them. "So, in other words, you're the cause of all of this."

"We could put it that way." The reaper loomed over her, one spidery forefinger in her face. "But let's not forget it was Light Yagami's choice alone that set him on this path."

Mai stood from the swings and began to make her way home. What else could she have done?

Near was waiting for her in the parlor when she returned home, folded up in one of the armchairs with _Hunting Kira_ in his lap and a dart in his hand. He'd been about to throw it at the board across the room when she entered, dripping water onto the carpet, and she saw at once that he knew she'd learned their secrets. This was why he'd left Matsuda's manuscript out for her to find and why Rester, a normally obstinate man, had seemed so unsettled this morning. They knew they couldn't hide the truth from her forever. It was time she knew the truth.

"Near." She'd asked on that day many years ago. "Why did you take me in?"

She'd thought he would give her some reasoning about how she was the daughter of a killer. That studies had implied sociopathy was a genetic mental illness. Although afflicting males more often than females, and he didn't want to risk her becoming her father. Because humans who came into contact with a Death Note were doomed to misfortune. Those odds were against her. She'd thought for sure he'd say he did it to raise her properly, to prevent another outbreak of Kira.

"It seemed like the right thing to do."

"What?"

"He had to be stopped. And, unfortunately, that triggered a chain reaction of events that stole your family from you." Near threw his last dart and reached for another box, removing one of the little bullets and taking aim. "True, I could have left you in Japan. I'm sure any one of the task force would have gladly taken you in after the death of your aunt and grandmother. You might've been happier that way. Happy. But also bored. And the last time a Yagami was bored, it resulted in a six year genocide. Wouldn't you agree putting your talents to good use would keep you occupied, as well as entertained?"

Mai said nothing, her wine red eyes—the eyes that matched her father's—following the dart in Near's hand.

"From the day you were born till the day you die, you will always be the daughter of Light Yagami and Misa Amane, and the progeny of Kira. Your parents were gifted, Mai." Near finally threw and the dart sailed across the air, striking a perfect bull's eye in the board. "But your father abused his gifts and became a monster. Worse yet, your mother squandered hers and became his puppet. Are you condemned to be either?"

So in a way, Near became her hope as well as her guardian.

…

A hollow knock on the bathroom door made her jump and rise to her feet. The door handle turned, a loud rattle that shattered the silence, followed by the creak of tarnished hinges. Mai took a step back, hurriedly wiping tears away as her fiancé stuck his head into the bathroom. Seeing she was decent, the door opened all the way and he looked at her, brown eyes concerned and searching.

She knew what he was thinking, and before she could stop herself, she avoided his gaze and turned to the sink. She took a moment to rinse out her mouth, swallowing some of the tap to wash down the acidic taste in her throat. There was that question if she was all right, and she let it go unanswered. There was no way to describe the storm inside her head, she thought as she washed her hands and turned off the flow of water. No doubt he knew she'd been crying. No doubt he could smell the rancid vomit smell still hanging in the air. Mai closed her eyes as he approached, wrapping his arms around her thin shoulders and pulling her against his chest.

"You okay?" He asked again, and in the mirror, she saw his lips curl into a sad smile.

Mai smiled back and pulled away, gripping his hand and leading the way out of the bathroom and back upstairs. The room she shared with her fiancé was her father's old room. Where he first began his genocide. Mai shuddered as she placed her hand on the door handle. Cold and proud as she was, it still caused her unimaginable unease when her intuition picked up on the names written within this room, and worse. When she and her fiancé first moved into the house, she'd had a nightmare that very night. Standing in a room with bright-colored walls and toys strewn about the floor…waving a gun…terrified, small children…some frightened adults…then pain. A terrible pressure on her chest, crushing her heart. The inability to breathe. Nausea. Falling to the floor…and finally bolting upright in her own bed again, gasping for air.

The next night was similar, only she was on a motorcycle chasing a woman, when she was struck and killed instantly by a truck. This had continued for months. She lost sleep, her health began to deteriorate, her hair fell out, and she even developed an alarming bruise over her heart, evidence her physical body was being influenced by her spiritual one. She tried to keep the nightmares at bay, using various techniques and meditations Lin taught her, but it was like trying to stop a tsunami with a shoji door. Every night, she would wake up screaming or vomiting or ripping at her hair, and then there were nights when her fiancé had to forcefully wake her up, shaking her, shouting at her, even slapping her across the face. The latter had garnered quite a few suspicious and accusing stares from their neighbors when they observed the welts on her cheeks, but nothing came of it. A benefit to having a particularly intimidating significant other.

Mai closed her eyes, infinitely grateful to him for everything. A lesser man might have left her by now, but every time he snapped her out of her night terrors, he held her in his arms until she calmed down, made her favorite tea, and cleaned up her mess if she'd made one. He walked her to and from work and saw her off every time she left town with SPR. He even went to Lin and Monk himself, asking about gentler methods to wake her up. He was afraid of losing her. Not in the desperate way of a clingy boyfriend, but she could see the concern in his eyes even if he tried to hide it. Eyes were windows to the soul, after all. She'd always been good at reading them.

Mai turned the door handle and stepped inside. Lightning illuminated the gloomy setting for a moment as she made her way across the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. But just as she was about to lie down and go back to sleep, her phone began to vibrate. A sense of mild surprise skipped through her and she picked it up, finding two messages. The first was from twenty minutes ago and sent by her partner at work:

[Kureo]: _Hey, Taniyama-sempai, just wishing you a happy birthday. Hope you have a good one. See you at work._

Mai smiled and switched to the second message and nearly laughed aloud.

[Masako]: _Happy birthday, Mai. Stopping by your house later with a bottle of Spottwood Cabernet Sauvignon from the year '08._

A questioning glance from her fiancé and she showed him the messages, too. He laughed and switched her phone off, pushing her back against the mattress and leaning over her. "Happy birthday, Mai."

She smiled when he kissed her forehead and lay beside her, pulling her close and wrapping the blanket around the both of them. "I love you." She whispered back, threading her fingers through his brunet hair. This is normal. This is their life. She would've liked to skip ahead in her memories and go straight to the one when they met and when she came to the horrifying realization she was in love with him, but that wasn't really fair to her other memories.

And she had good ones. Filled with ghosts and demons and one particular annoyance she preferred to think of as Naru the Narcissist. Mai grinned as they drifted off. Oh, yes, her old boss and 'teenage crush' had rightfully earned his place in her memories, so she was very much obligated to call him back into her reminiscence.

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: I'm back for one more update before 2018. It's unlikely Chapter 6 will be done before then, but I'll see you next year.

Ghost Hunt is owned by Fuyumi Ono and Shiho Inada.

Death Note is owned by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.


	6. Enter the Ghost Hunter

Chapter 6: Enter the Ghost Hunter

 _"_ _It's scary what a smile can hide."_

Meeting Naru was an accident.

Just like her father picking up that cursed notebook, she supposed.

She was fifteen when she decided to go back to Japan, shortly after she learned the truth about her father. It took several weeks to convince Near to give up his guardianship and let her live independently. Not through lack of confidence in her abilities, he knew very well she could take care of herself, but for three things.

One: She was still the daughter of Kira. Though the concept of right and very wrong had been firmly instilled in her brain since she began her studies with Near, her turning to the path of a killer was still a possibility. After all, the ideals of a police officer's son were what led her father astray.

Two: Though she was not a child of Wammy's House, she was one of L's potential successors and one of the best. Definitely in the top five. Near did not want her to go in hopes she could take his place when the time came, something she had neither interest in nor ambition for.

However, in the end, it was Stephen Loud who convinced him to let her go, citing the reason, "She's still a growing girl. She just needs some time to figure out where she stands in life, like all teenagers. Besides, she wants to be in Japan. Anyone would want to visit their birthplace after being away for a long time."

Plane tickets were ordered, citizenship documents arranged, a school and apartment scouted out, her belongings packed up, and other trivial matters. Most important was calling the task force to let them know she was coming home. She remembered a lot of conversations with Lider about whether or not she was nervous. She _had_ been a homeschooled shut-in for the last three year of her life after all, and Tokyo had over nine million citizens. That was quite a leap. Mai answered she was not nervous, which was a lie. She told her she would be fine, of which she was not so confident.

She and Near hardly spoke to each other lose last few weeks. At first, Mai thought it was because she had disappointed him with her choice.

Three: As she said goodbye to her family at the gate, shaking their hands one by one, Near held onto her a second longer. As she gave her ticket to the lady at the counter, she glanced back to find the man in white walking away, his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets. As she boarded the plane…she realized with a quiet pang that he didn't want her to go simply because he would miss her.

…

She had played the part of an average human well since her return to Japan. She had kept her head down and her nose out of trouble. She got into a good school, the same her father had in fact attended. She strove to blend in, wearing plain clothes, no makeup, and kept her hair mediocre and at its natural color. She made friends. Three of them became members of her inner circle, but in all, her charisma and wit made her popular in the classroom. Just a normal, boring high school student.

She knew something was off about Kazuya Shibuya right from the start. Introducing himself by his given name, showing up because he had 'some stuff to take care of,' announcing he was seventeen instead of just saying he was a senior. Definitely sketchy. Super sketchy. So sketchy she resolved to investigate the matter. For all she knew, he was some Yakuza brat hoping to stir up trouble in her peaceful life. It didn't matter. If he threatened the normal world she'd made for herself, she have him eating dirt soon enough. With this in mind, she'd happily set off for school the following morning, earlier than usual.

Okay, knocking over that shelf hadn't been her fault. She would admit she bumped into it, sure, but in retrospect, she knew it was more likely Ryuk gave it a little shove to see what would happen. She never saw him there, so it's not as though she could ever prove it…but it sure made a nice excuse. How she ever put up with Naru's rudeness after that was a miracle.

An honest-to-god miracle.

She could still remember it. That conceited look on his face, "Oh, and Mai?"

 _Balls._

"Would you mind coming with me for a moment?"

 _Dammit._ Her stupid friends making their pouty faces. They were welcome to this arrogant bastard, she'd thought as she calmly walked to the door and joined Shibuya in the hall. This was about the camera, she just knew it. And possibly about a medical bill, too. "So how's your friend doing?" She ventured. An innocent voice, mixed with some apprehension.

Blah, blah, something about a sprain, he'd live, camera broken, _here_ was the meat of the matter. "My assistant was trying to stop you from touching the camera, and now it's in several pieces."

 _That is generally what happens when they fall off a tripod and hit the floor._ "Well, can't I just buy you a new one?" Flustered, pleading.

"It's quite expensive."

She could pay it. Between Near's support and her mother's inheritance, she wanted for nothing. Dropping a couple two hundred thousand yen or so to repair/replace damaged equipment was peanuts. And yet… "Then I don't know what to do." She _was_ still curious as to what this guy's deal was.

"You can't afford to reimburse me for the damaged equipment, which means there's only one other course we can take. You'll work off the debt as my assistant."

Yeah, she thought that's where this was going. "What do you do exactly?"

"I hunt ghosts."

That was a new one. "Huh?"

"In other words, I exorcise spirits. My company, Shibuya Psychic Research, was hired to conduct an investigation on the old school house."

Wait, was this guy for real?

…

In all honesty, Shibuya pissed her off. She really had never met a bigger narcissist in her life, hence the subsequent renaming in her head. She also had never noticed how much she took after her mother until that moment. "Ungh." Mai grumbled, dropping into a seat after setting up the last camera and laid her head on her arm.

"That's all we have for today." Shibuya told her as he walked by, not even sparing her a glance.

"For today?" Apprehensive.

"I'll see you in the morning."

She might've ignored everything. She might've just gone home, done her homework, and gone to bed. She might've just set everything aside, paid Kazuya's fine for the stupid camera that got her into this mess, and continued her boring, if normal, life. (Granted boring was what she wanted having left Near's keeping to take a crack at a 'normal' life.) It might've been worth seeing the look on his face as she handed him the check and pleasantly told him to bugger off and have a nice day, asshole.

She might've done just that…

…had Ryuk not made a sudden reappearance in her life, practically dive-bombing her in a dark alley and scaring her shitless. She skinned her knees and palms as he knocked her face first into concrete, cackling something about how he 'been waiting all day to do that.' Mai scowled and rose to her feet, dusting herself off and wordlessly continuing on her way.

The reaper took flight, following alongside her as she made her way home. She didn't live too far away from campus, in one of those quaint, one-room apartments the average student could afford. A relatively nice one, though. She allowed herself that luxury. Her shinigami didn't try to engage in conversation, nor did she try to start one. It wouldn't look good if the normally chipper Mai Taniyama was seen talking angrily to herself in the street. But as soon as she was home and the door was locked, she set a tea kettle to boil, put out an apple for Ryuk, and lay down across her bed. "Why're you here?" It had been almost a year since she'd last saw him. Her 'normal' life wasn't worth watching, so he'd returned to the Shinigami Realm indefinitely. Or so he'd told her.

Ryuk just chewed the apple to bits, core and all, and did not answer her. Although…he did drop a Death Note in her lap, which she shoved into a desk drawer. Not the most elaborate of hiding places, perhaps, but it was all the effort she was interesting in exerting. The notebook was Ryuk's tether to the Human World. If he attached himself to her, he would not have to return home for some time, which meant now he was intending to stay for a time.

Mai sighed. Simple mathematics. Now how to deal with them. Well, that much was obvious. Simply pay Naru's fine or continue covering for 'Lin.' Mai crossed her arms behind her head and looked up at the ceiling, wondering how to deal with the situation. Part of her _really_ wanted to pay the fine and continue with her life. And yet…there was her nagging curiosity about this intruder in her normal life.

Besides…Ryuk _had_ come down from the Shinigami Realm expecting some entertainment. Might as well make sure he didn't make the trip for nothing.

"Morning." She greeted the narcissist as she circled the van to meet him. "What's up?"

"Just checking yesterday's data. So far there seems to be nothing unusual."

Now there was something right up her alley. As someone not particularly versed in the science of the paranormal, she was about to ask what an abnormal reading entailed when a woman's voice chided them about how children shouldn't be playing with fancy equipment. And then everyone else showed up. Mai had calculated something like this would happen. Kazuya Shibuya would've preferred to stay under the media's radar, thus preventing him from gaining notoriety of any sort in his field. Therefore, her school's principal would begin to express some doubts for the obvious teenage CEO and hire on another expert.

 _But to invite so many…_

 _A ghost hunter with enough equipment to film a documentary, a Buddhist monk who doesn't have the appearance or bearing of a monk, a Shinto shrine maiden with questionable virtue, a teenage Catholic priest, and a brat celebrity medium._ Mai stole a moment to glare at Ryuk for laughing uncontrollably at the situation. _Oh, right, and he's shown up, too. And with me, we also have the sociopath daughter of the mass murderer Kira. What the hell kind of freak show zoo is this?_

She clicked her tongue and made a subtle gesture with her hand. _"Quiet, you're distracting me."_

"Sorry." Ryuk zipped his mouth shut, emitting a subtle, choking sound that was easier to ignore.

 _Now then._ She turned her gaze to Naru, suppressing a smile. _You can certainly act the part the part of a genius. Impress me._

…

She was startled someone like Naru would ever work as a paranormal investigator. She would've imagined the supernatural was too 'fantastical' for a selective group of highly intelligent and ultimately realistic children. But every Wammy's child, even the ones that seem the most normal, had a peculiar touch to their persona, their own unique quirk or hobby that defined them. Or made them annoying…. In retrospect, perhaps it was Near's implied existence of shinigami that drew him to the field. His alias, and Gene's, was G for Gemini. The Twins.

So far as she knew, Oliver and Eugene Davis were the only ones to share a name. A clever tactic, if a little old school (and rather cliché,) she had to admit. But if she'd had the opportunity to have a carbon copy of herself, she and her sister would've likely done the same. Or maybe she and her sister would've dreamed of something even more brilliant. No matter. As she had no siblings, it was an impossibility, and therefore not worth her time contemplating.

In the beginning, she hadn't the faintest idea why Naru was in Japan. She'd just been enjoying her normal and boring high school life when he walked in, uninvited she might add, and began turning everything upside down. Terrible manners. Realizing he was a Wammy's child didn't take her long. Lin's hostility to her on the last night—or morning—of the Hirumu School House Case was his undoing. It _had_ been an accident after all, there was no call to be so rude to her. So she'd just decided to investigate the man, uncover some dark secret, and generally just make a nuisance of herself when she discovered his involvement with one of the many, _many_ alternate names Roger had for Wammy's House. Naturally, she spat tea everywhere and laughed so hard, she fell out of her chair and rolled around on the floor like a demented seal.

The whole thing was hysterical, even more so when this 'Kazuya Shibuya' seemed to have absolutely no idea who she was. When he first asked her to work for him, she assumed he suspected the truth of her identity and wanted to observe her. After all, a sociopath and an investigator were natural enemies and the progeny of a mass murderer couldn't be left to run about unchecked. (Not that she was; L, or Near, still kept a very close eye on her after she set out on her own.)

But as time went on, she noticed neither he nor Lin (his presumed 'Watari') seemed to have no interest in her other than having an extra pair of hands at the office and during cases. She joined in on the investigations, keeping her innermost thoughts to herself and letting events unfold rather than actually taking part and solving the irresistible puzzle, and all the while waiting for the trademark banter of Wammy's House, goading her to retaliate, which would lead her to slip, and therefore reveal herself. At first, Naru's banter seemed to only consist of putting her down and calling her stupid. Not that she blamed him. With the personality she'd adopted for her life in Japan, the Yagami in her thought the same.

Then, she realized one day, quite suddenly, this also wasn't the case. He _never_ suspected an average girl could possibly be the progeny of the greatest mass murderer the history books would never mention by name. The revelation actually awoke a sense of unadulterated rage in her. Of course, having no one suspect the truth, especially one of those brats, was all she wanted, but she never realized how insulting it was to be underestimated like that. Yet she said nothing and endured the abuse with a smile deep in her heart. After all, she'd been expecting a little humiliation now that she had her own L to play with. She enjoyed their game. A harmless, wickedly innocent game compared to the dance macabre her father and the first L played.

Ryuk also appeared a lot more frequently during her time at Shibuya Psychic Research. Every investigation had him tailing her like a shadow, laughing at their every move. And eating all the apples. She once watched Takigawa set down the unfinished apple he had for lunch, only to become thoroughly confused when he couldn't find it again. Mai could only hide a smile and tell him she was sorry but she hadn't seen it either. He chalked it up to Yasu or Ayako stealing it.

As for why _she_ agreed to join SPR, suspecting G wanted her where he could see her? Nobody ever said she couldn't throw a _little_ excitement in her ordinary life.

But of course, not everyone remained as ignorant as Naru.

Lin knew after the Rokuryou Case. Of course, she imagined he'd suspected up until that point, but after her calling for the death of a man she viewed as evil against the lives of five hundred students accidentally weaving his death curse? How could anyone not piece it together?

"Thank you, Lin." She told him as he was cleaning up his makeshift altar. Naru had just apologized to her, and she was making her rounds doing the same for the others. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

"It's fine."

She nodded, having expected an answer like that, and made her way to the door. Monk had told her she would be riding with him back to Tokyo, and she didn't want to keep him waiting.

"Taniyama." Lin's cold voice froze her in her tracks. "Watch yourself." Whether that was a genuine concern, considering her earlier incidents with the collapsed floor and the formaldehyde, or a legit threat she wasn't sure, but it scared her. Perhaps that was the intent. To make her crack or slip up.

But she had nothing to fear. She'd done nothing wrong, despite her intentions.

…

Mai opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She was not proud of her behavior at Rokuryou. The idea she'd ever said such horrible things, condemning a man, despicable as he was, to such a violent fate. She was certain even her father wouldn't have been so unnecessarily cruel. It was the perfect storm of Light Yagami's so-called sense of justice and her mother irrationality.

 _Dammit._

She heaved a shaking sigh, remembering how she'd spent that entire trip home in silence, fighting to keep her thoughts in order. How adamant she'd been in calling for that man's death, the guilty party in her mind. Irredeemable. The very root of evil in that part of the world. Cull the weed, burn out the rot, and everyone would be all the happier.

It was the closest Yagami Mai had come to eclipsing Taniyama Mai, and she was afraid. It made her realize for the first time she was not quite as different from her father as she'd originally thought.

The chime of her phone startled her, and she lifted her head. It was a new message, she supposed as she reached for the device and scooped it up, squinting at the sender.

 _Lin…_

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: I like writing snarky Mai.

Ghost Hunt is owned by Fuyumi Ono and Shiho Inada.

Death Note is owned by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.


End file.
